Ruth offered the use of the Niral estate for the wedding, but Colrand declined; he and his fiancée, the human Sith Avanna, were set on a palace owned by a friend on Alderaan.

Avanna was a sweet girl, of the school of decent Sith that Jaesa's Academy had been developing for nearly a quarter of a century. The Empire was still a dangerous world for them – indeed, many of them ended up emigrating to Republic or neutral space – but the enclave was a good community.

Ruth offered to help with arrangements. So did Wynston. Cole and Avanna smilingly, firmly declined. It took considerable badgering for Cole to even accept some credits to help with whatever he was planning, but Ruth was determined to at least do that; he didn't need to start out in debt.

The Aegis set course for Alderaan and Ruth prepared at the vanity in the bathroom. For once she didn't put on armor. Cole hadn't made any such request, but he and Avanna were both of a diplomatic bent – not what she had expected from the weaponsmaster Cole had grown into, but he was happy with his chosen work. So today Ruth would not come arrayed for battle.

A blue gown, modest scoop neck, nothing too likely to grab attention away from the bride. Her appearance wasn't what she usually used to command the room anyway. A gold choker set with blue gems, a thank-you gift from a Lorrdian businessman after a complicated intervention several years ago. Wynston had offered on several occasions to find her more jewelry she would like, but she found that plenty of it was spontaneously offered to her in a number of dealings anyway and she wasn't accustomed to wearing even that. From him she had accepted the plain gold ring she wore everywhere, and that was enough.

She decided to wear her hair half up for the day, pulling the front locks back to braid them behind her head. She brushed the free waves smooth – it was nice to have an excuse to let it down once in a while – and then, after a last mirror check, opened the door to where Wynston was waiting.

His grey-and-red formals were straight out of the society pages of Dromund Kaas; he had no extra ornamentation outside his own ring, a gold band matched to hers. It was the closest thing to an official mark they kept. He didn't wear it when he was disguised for work, but on a day like this he was free to show it.

The years and the mission had put slightly more in the way of lines and scars on him than they had on her, but his red eyes had lost none of their brightness, nor his lips their expressiveness. He met her eyes and smiled brilliantly. "You look amazing. Would it throw our schedule off terribly for us to undo that all right this minute?"

She seriously considered it. She always did. "I'm afraid it would. They'll notice if we show up late."

"You're quite sure?" Allowing himself a moment to look her over, he walked up close, placed his hands lightly on her hips, and gave her one, questioning kiss.

"Quite sure, I'm afraid. Sorry." She said it with a smile.

He nodded and let his hands fall. "As you wish," he said softly, then returned her smile. "Shall we away, then?"

"We shall." She presented him with a lightsaber. "Carry this for me? I don't want to go for the bristling-weaponry look today."

"You could probably deal with any problem wedding guest even without it," he said, but he pocketed the saber anyway. "For that matter Colrand could probably suppress any rebellion that comes up."

"I'm not expecting trouble. This is just in case." Which reminded her of something less entertaining: the fact that this would be the first time Wynston and Quinn had been put in the same room in over eight years. "You'll be all right with…him, won't you?"

"There won't be a problem," Wynston said mildly. "This is Cole's day, I think even he can recognize that."

"He will." She kissed him. "We all will."

"I love you," he informed her. "Let's go."

*

Ruth had to hand it to the Alderaanians: their idea of grandeur delivered. The long window arch over the great hall had only the lightest silver tracery to support the transparisteel; the sky was blue and close above it, and sunlight flooded the galleries and the broad marble floor. The carpet and banners were of the light green Avanna favored.

A reedy dark-skinned youth, one of the bride's brothers, bowed to her and Wynston and led them down the center aisle towards their seats.

The hall was crowded. For all that Cole had few blood relatives, he and Avanna had a lot in the way of friends. She saw several of the Sith he had met at Jaesa's academy, along with Jaesa herself; the matronly Sith was seated near the front with her husband. Her twin daughters were nowhere in sight; they were likely in the wedding party, then.

Vette had made it, much to Ruth's delight. General Pierce for once was not alone in looming over the general audience even while sitting; he had his clean-shaven son at his side. Pierce Junior, in turn, had a slim cyborg on his arm – possibly the prettiest man there, Ruth noted.

Her stomach flopped a little when the grey-haired man in the front row finally turned to see who was approaching. Quinn rose unhurriedly, crisp as ever in his dress uniform, and bowed with one hand on his heart. When he raised his eyes he fixed them on Ruth to the exclusion of anyone else. "My lord Wrath," he said quietly.

"Moff." She was aware of Wynston moving past her to take his assigned place two seats past Quinn. "You're looking well."

"It is a happy day, my lord." Cautious, formal. But not cold.

"It is."

No sooner had they seated themselves than Colrand himself emerged from a side door, smiling ear to ear. He was a perfect image of his father, now in black robes with a touch of light green trim. His eyes were sparkling as he took a few long last paces toward the Emperor's Wrath, swept her up by her waist, and spun her in a near-full circle before setting her down and planting a kiss on her cheek. "You look great," he informed her while she was still breathless with laughter, and then he turned to clasp Wynston's hand and hug his shoulder. Once Wynston stepped back Colrand turned again and hesitated for a moment, facing Quinn, very nearly settling for a respectful nod before the older man enfolded him in a tight hug instead, grey head contrasting with black in a tableau that Ruth would not soon forget.

Cole flitted away after that to confer with his groomsmen, two of Avanna's brothers; and then, very suddenly, the music was already starting.

There were Jaesa's daughters, Cole's childhood friends, side by side in green, coming up to stand opposite the groomsmen and beam at the hall in general. At some unseen signal both Parvin and Grega blew Cole playful kisses, which prompted snorts of laughter from the Pierces and set Cole blushing furiously.

Then Avanna appeared, wearing, in defiance of all Imperial tradition, pure dazzling white. Ruth hadn't realized anyone could make that look good until now. Cole's face fairly glowed as she came to take his hand.

While Ruth listened to the readings her eyes were on her son and his bride. They seemed completely unselfconscious standing up there, smiling at each other and, for all Ruth could tell, ignoring the ceremony around them entirely. She found herself seeking Quinn's right hand with her left. He started when she took hold and squeezed; she met his questioning look with the proud smile she couldn't seem to shake and didn't want to. She held his gaze and nodded toward the bride and groom with a look that said See? We made him for this.

And he nodded, and squeezed back, and returned to looking forward, his expression a little brighter than before.

Avanna came close to singing her vows in her flutelike voice; they carried high and clear through the hall. Colrand, in contrast, had to cough through a couple of nervous false starts before he got talking. When he did, though, his voice was strong and steady – more so than Ruth had ever heard, in point of fact. This ceremony, with these words and motions, was exactly where he meant to be.

Once the readings were read, the vows were vowed and the kiss was lingeringly kissed, the crowd was reasonably orderly in gravitating toward the couple. Ruth hugged Colrand – with less getting picked up and spun this time – and then embraced Avanna, kissing the shorter woman's cheek. "Welcome to the family," said Ruth.

"Thank you," whispered Avanna. She managed to make brimming with tears look gorgeous. She looked so very young, young and radiant. Ruth smiled and took her place down the receiving line.

The reception consisted simply of moving to the other end of the sun-soaked grand hall. Supper passed in pleasant chatter with Avanna's family, which got progressively smoother as the Force-blind parents and siblings got over their slight awe of the Emperor's Wrath. Wynston had assured Ruth a long time ago that she would never be able to really turn off the commanding presence she had cultivated for so long, but she was pleased to find that she was managing something less than "scary". Better yet, Quinn and Wynston, by tacit agreement, kept up a cordiality maintained by their genuine affection for everyone else at the table. Wynston finished and got up a little early to go confer with the musicians; he returned in time for the first dance, leading Ruth to the floor with a smile and a word.

He closed until he was leading more with his chest than his arms. Ruth followed comfortably and kept turning her head to follow where Colrand was sweeping Avanna around, quite clearly lost in her eyes.

"I can't remember the last time you were this distracted while dancing," murmured Wynston.

"Hm?" she said playfully. "I think I got more distracted that time a fire broke out in the Mos Anek cantina."

"Ah. I stand corrected. This is a close competitor, though."

"I can't help it. My son's over there." Where her mind was, her eyes followed. "He's an adult, and he's gotten involved with a Sith, which is terrible for one's health, I can't imagine why he thought that was a good idea."

"Sith women can be all right."

"You're only saying that because–"

"You're amazing," Wynston interrupted firmly, "and I love you. And she is a wonderful young woman, who is obviously crazy about him."

"She is." Her doubt passed as quickly as it had come. "Well then, maybe I'm just admiring how they look together."

"True. Cole's a very handsome fellow, and he is with the second best-looking woman in the room."

"Hush, you, this is Avanna's day."

He grinned. "As you say." Still maintaining a steady lead, he leaned forward ever so slightly to touch his cheek to hers. "They do look very, very happy. As is right and proper."

After that they fell silent and enjoyed their closeness, the instinctive way they moved in sync as they did every time they came together. And Ruth watched her son, and felt a steady little glow.

Colrand made a beeline for her the moment the song ended. "Hello, you two," he said, flushed and smiling. "I hope you're not danced out yet, Mom."

She let go of Wynston. "Nowhere close. Is there time to pick up a drink first?"

"I'm a grownup or something now." He laughed and took two glasses of water from the side table, handing one to her. "It's good."

It was with an entirely new assurance that Colrand led her onto the dance floor when the next song started. Avanna was paired off with her father; Cole shot a dazzling smile at both of them and then turned his attention to Ruth. He was surprisingly graceful in adapting to her shorter steps.

"You know," he said, "I never actually believed Wynston when he said knowing this stuff would come in handy."

"Wynston's a resourceful person, you should've listened."

"I did listen even if I wasn't convinced. It worked out; teaching Avanna to dance gave us something to do when we weren't studying."

"See? Wynston knows what he's about."

"Yeah. I'm glad you'll have him."

She raised her eyebrows. "Was this a concern?"

"Well, you know…now that I'm elsewhere, I hate to think you're…"

"You haven't lived with us for quite some time," she said, amused.

"Yeah, but it's different now. At least 'til Avanna and I get a house in order enough for you to come."

"I think your ageing mother will survive, but I appreciate your concern." She grinned. "By the way, today was your last excuse ever to pick up and twirl the Emperor's Wrath."

He let her go with a last hug when the song ended, and she retreated to the sidelines to take up a glass and join Vette and Jaesa.

"You're not tired out already, are you?" said Vette. "Lightweight."

"Good to see you, too. Hi, Jaesa."

"Hi, Ruth. You got a nice turnout."

"I had nothing to do with pulling this together. That was all Cole and Avanna."

"Color me impressed. Avanna…never showed the best organizational skills at the academy."

"No? I guess they've both grown up a little."

"Yeah," said Vette. "I can now officially say that I've seen a Sith survive from infancy to marriage. I was never really sure how that ever happens."

"I never allowed murder attempts in the house," said Ruth. "That helps."

"Some would call that a scandalous oversight in your kid's education," said Vette. "Mostly people I don't want to be friends with, but they would."

"He seems to have turned out all right. You know, for a graduate of 'Jaesa's School of Bad Sith'."

"I repeat, you oughta inscribe that over the door."

"I won't," Jaesa said imperturbably. "The school is succeeding just fine."

"At making bad Sith."

"Would you rather we break into a violent power play at the alumni reception here?" Ruth asked archly.

"…When you put it that way, no, I think I'm okay with bad Sith."

"That's what I thought." Ruth looked to Jaesa. "You know, the girls will be doing this themselves before you know it."

"Don't say that," giggled Jaesa. "I'm still not used to Cole changing his own clothes. Personally I vote for those two next." She tilted her head toward Pierce Junior and his date.

"We don't even have his name, do we? I don't see a Pierce marrying any time soon."

"That's because you're a cynic," sighed Vette.

"And this from her," said Jaesa. "Ouch."

"Hmph. This cynic is going for pastries," said Ruth. "Do either of you want anything?"

"Nah," said Vette. Jaesa just shook her head. So Ruth left them to head for the refreshments table.

She noticed Pierce Junior and his cyborg date chatting Quinn up, or possibly just cornering him, where he stood by a pillar not far from the edge of the dance floor. Quinn noticed her movement and gave a subtle gesture that served for a discreet summons, so she approached to see what was going on. "My lord," he said, probably more quickly than was strictly necessary, when she got close. "Would you grant me the honor of a dance?"

She looked at a maliciously grinning Junior and his utterly innocuous-looking friend, but decided to delay questions until after Quinn was safely away. "With pleasure," she said, and took his hand to return to the dance floor.

He allowed her to set the distance of their square formal hold, then took the lead. "Thank you," he said in a low voice.

She didn't laugh. Not quite. Even if she felt her eyes going wide while she was busy suppressing a smile. "I'm sorry."

"I'm here for Cole and Avanna," he said with his old harried brusqueness. "I'll survive the evening."

"Thank you for coming. It means a lot to him."

Quinn nodded stiffly.

"And…I'm glad he has you in the first place."

When he pulled her a degree closer she didn't argue. "It has been a great joy to have him in my life, Ruth."

"If I'd known how he would take to you I'd have let you in earlier."

"I understand your reasons," he said roughly.

She disentangled one of her hands to touch a finger to his lips. "Please. Nothing sad today." She brought her hand back to close her hold. "Sorry, I was supposed to be a more pleasant conversationalist than Junior."

That got him to break a smile. "I assure you, you are."

"It is really, really good, after everything, to see you smiling."

He gave her a long look of the kind that had finally matured into deep and undemanding affection. "Then I shall keep doing it."

Whatever else she felt about him, she loved him for being a good father to their son, and so she danced and for a while forgot to look at anything else.

He took a slow step back away at the end of the dance and bowed, smiled once more, then looked around. "I should find Cole. I must depart soon; I need to be in the Sullust sector by morning."

Of course. "Thank you for the dance," she said. "Even if it was just an excuse to get away from Pierce Junior. –But truly, it was good to see you."

"It was good to be here, Ruth. Take care."

"You, too, Quinn."

*

Ruth was startled by the pang she felt when her son left some time later. It was, after all, the natural conclusion of getting married in the first place, but seeing Colrand walk out arm in arm with Avanna made Ruth suddenly, intensely aware that he was building a life away from her.

Wynston slipped an arm around her waist. "Are you all right?"

"Hm? Of course I am." She leaned into him, still watching the empty doorway.

He took the excuse of kissing her to cup her face and brush away a tear she hadn't realized she was shedding. "Good. He's got someone to keep him in line while we're off on missions now, and that can only be a good thing."

"Right. Because Cole was always such a wild boy."

"Always watch for the quiet ones," he murmured, smiling. "What's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

"One more round of the guests?"

"With pleasure. I'm still holding some tiny hope that I can trick Junior's boy into dropping Junior's first name tonight."

"I'm not sure Junior releases that information to the men he dates."

"I have to try. It's my job to know everything; if I can get the elder's name, I'll get the younger's one way or another."

"Maybe Pierce never gave him one."

Wynston scowled. "No, that'd be too easy. He's wilier than that."

"You're never going to forgive him for not putting it on record anywhere in the galaxy, are you?"

"Never? Nonsense, there are no hard feelings that won't be resolved by me winning. Let's go, darling."

*

Once Wynston and Ruth finally did depart the return to the Aegis was quick. That was just as well; Ruth discovered a powerful inclination to stay in contact with Wynston on the way, one that did not lessen when they reached their quarters. The energy of the day was still riding high and, after all, none of their dances really ended until they were in bed, the part of their never-ending conversation that was carried out mostly in the singing of nerves and the language of expressive breath and subtle varied motions.

They did get back to words, eventually, once he was lying beside her with a hand resting at her collarbone. "I love you," he whispered.

Pleasant exhaustion made her speech slow. "I love you, too."

"Let's talk tomorrow. About maybe celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

He slid a hand up her arm to the ring on her finger; he tapped it a couple of times and then laid her hand on his cheek and rested. "We have our private promises, but a party might be fun."

"Copycat," she murmured.

"I'm too tired to dispute that intelligently. We'll see if it's still a good idea in the morning."

"Hmm. I think it might be."

"Did I mention I love you?"

"I love you, too," she said.

"Good. Sleep well, darling."

And so, warm and spent and contented and loved, Ruth slept.

Spoiler

If you need assistance escaping the sap, allow me to offer you a little imaginary rowboat and paddle. This was hard work; even though I set out to be all mushy, I still had to remove several bittersweet exchanges from the draft because Bright's brain keeps doing that. NO SAD. ONLY HAPPY.

There is a significant chance that Larr Gith and Doc crashed the reception – I mean, they're practically family, right? and everybody loves a party – and i was just too lazy to write out that train wreck.

If Pierce Junior was born before RMC's main timeline happened, then he must also exist in Lodestone.

Um, I suppose a more articulate response would be to say that it is delightful to see everyone getting a happy ending, particularly in light of other universes where the ending is far from happy. The sap infiltrated through my skin and made its way up into my brain until every neuron was singing a triumphant chorus of "D'awwww."

Here, have a smattering of shorter pieces. The two in this post are crossposts from the AU thread's As Time Goes By prompt.

L + ~20

Spoiler

Wynston kept Ruth in a close dance hold as he made one of his habitual rapid scans of the room.

"You know," he informed her, "I'm starting to suspect we're too old for this crowd."

She looked around as well. The other dancers, as well as the musicians, many of the diners, and half the staff of the Nexus Room Cantina, did indeed appear to be in the under-thirty set, a demographic Wynston and herself hadn't fallen into in quite some time.

"We still buy drinks," she said cheerfully. "I don't think they're going to kick us out."

"I know that, I was just thinking that we get more conspicuous every year."

"Not necessarily. Look over there." Her head movement was only barely distinguishable but he knew enough to follow where she meant. "There's a whole booth of older people engaging in skulduggery as we speak."

"But for once we're not engaging in skulduggery. We're engaging in dancing."

"The casual observer might assume we're engaged in skulduggery, too. See? We fit." She beamed at him. "...Unless you're saying you want to be someplace else?"

His pulled her closer. "Stars, no. This was good enough for a first date, I like coming back here."

"All right. Well, we could go look conspiratorial in a corner after if you think that'll make us seem less conspicuous."

"Darling," he said, straight-faced, "I hate to say it, but you've never really gotten used to the secret-agent thing."

And potential further future; this may be just an AU branch, I'm not sure. I'm reluctant to put it as Official Lodestone but it's certainly plausible.

L + 33

Spoiler

"My ankle still isn't back up to spec," said Wynston. "I'm seriously considering mechanical replacement; that break was bad. I can't afford to let it happen again."

"You could not let 'having to jump from that height during an escape' happen again," suggested Ruth.

"One of these options is less limiting in the field."

He sounded very casual. Ruth knew better. "What's on your mind?"

"What's on my mind? That landing shouldn't have been a problem. It wouldn't have been, years ago. My body may not be up for this much longer." He pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her hair. She waited a while and was about to speak up again when he abruptly said "Chiss age faster than humans. It's becoming clear that I'm subject to those rules. I've got more than half your life expectancy, but not by much, and I personally have seven years' head start on you."

She raised his blue hand to her lips. "It's true," she said, and kissed his fingers.

"It's no help that I'm no Force user. You're more durable than I am several times over."

"You pull your weight, Wynston."

She felt his half smile. "I know," he said. "That doesn't change certain facts. Looking at the numbers, in a couple of decades you'll still be brown-haired and beautiful while I'm exhausting the limits of what life-extension technology can do."

"Brown-haired may be a generous assumption. And I know all this. I still love you. It'll be all right."

"Has anyone ever told you you're irrational?"

"You, on several occasions." She twisted around to lay a hand on his cheek. "Please don't talk like this."

His smile had turned sad. "I just don't know how much longer I'll be of use, darling."

She laid her other hand on his other cheek and, placing two fingertips very lightly against the lines at the corners of his eyes, met his gaze. "As long as you are with me, you are welcome, and wanted, and if you want me to say you're of use on your performance review I'll do it."

"You're a very kind manager. Still, I'm sixty now. My productive years are fast drawing to a close."

"Stop saying that. It isn't true."

"It's going to be a problem. If I get even a little less sharp, if I miss seeing or hearing something on the job, if I'm not steady enough to take the shot, that's lives and missions lost."

"So we scale back the field work."

"No. You're needed out there."

"Then I'll go and you support me remotely. After that I'll come home to you."

"You're a practical woman. Even if you are irrational." He trailed his hands up to her shoulders and held her firmly. "Work is what I do. It's what I am. I always assumed I would die on the job, out there. To be honest I was supposed to be dead by thirty. I didn't mind the idea. It's a lot less unsettling than the alternative."

"Stop it. Please. You're not going to die any time soon, and you're making a difference, a real difference, no matter what you decide to work on now."

"I know. And I have a few more years. Ten, maybe. Twenty if I'm lucky. As if just collecting years was cause for celebration. It is if it means I'm with you, but still." He gave her a long, thoughtful look, and his face conspicuously didn't betray any negative feeling. "You should've chosen a human. Someone who could stick around."

"I love you, Wynston. That would be true no matter if you were human or Chiss or something that springs up and fades overnight."

"I have the very inconvenient timing of getting to steal your prime without being able to hold you into old age."

"You're not stealing anything. We're in this together."

"I'm glad to hear it, but I can't guarantee it for much longer. It is…extraordinarily difficult for me to look you in the eye and say that I won't be there."

"Then don't say it. I could die before then. You could end up freakishly long-lived. Any number of things might happen. If you're here with me now I can handle it."

"I'm here with you." He squeezed her waist. "I've wasted a lot of time, Ruth, and I'm starting to think that that's not a resource I can arrange more of. But yes. I'm here with you now."

"And we still have years, love. Years I mean to spend with you."

A little worry finally made it onto his face. "Is this how you felt all those times you insisted that I should go find a plaything because you were getting old and unlovely?"

"Maybe? This is harder for you."

"Oh? You were hurting when you asked those things. You really thought I would find something more appealing than you. As if you could ever be anything but beautiful." He kissed her, slowly, and she was grateful to return it. Afterward he rested his forehead against hers. "I've cheated death on a number of occasions for the sole purpose of staying with you, but I don't know if I can outmaneuver this one."

She struggled for a moment to choose her words. "For what it's worth,' she said, "I'm keeping you today."

He picked up a little smile. "I should hope so, it's half past ten. If you're going to get rid of me you'd better make it fast."

"Nope. You're stuck." She touched his neck, his cheek, the hair that she never mentioned she knew he dyed. "We haven't run out of hours in the day yet. Let's make the most of it."

It was rare they took an entire evening just to hold each other, but on this night they were both willing to lose sleep for it.

Don't mind me, apparently affection is on the brain lately. This is a crosspost from the AU short fic thread.

L + ?? (really any time after Wynston got around to acknowledging love. This talk happens sometime when they're working together on one of his projects. Variants of it may have come up more than once over the years.)

Spoiler

"I'm never sure how much of a difference it makes to you that I'm Sith."

"That's a complicated question."

"That's why I'm never sure."

"It's not a make or break factor," Wynston said lightly. After a few more moments he turned from the window where they had been looking over the sweep of their host's gardens falling away to the gorgeous vista of another new planet. "You…awe me, Ruth. With both your strength and your determination. You're impressive to watch in a fight and it's very satisfying to assist in setting your battlefield.

"But what has always mattered to me is that you use this incredible power for the right things, for the right reasons, and then you put it aside. To be a mother, a lover, a friend, instead of just running around asserting your dominance because you can. Do you know how few people do that? How terrible the people who go the other way can be? You never made me bow before you, never put me in my place except in your worst moments and you truly believe that those were bad moments. Even though you had the prerogative. You never made me your servant, even though you could have, and that above all is what makes me want to be everything I can be for you. I don't love you for your power, but even if nothing else about you appealed to me – let's leave aside the absurdity of that idea for the moment – I would love you for choosing to use it the way you do.

"So I suppose it makes a difference to me that you're Sith. But only because of what it shows about you as a person."

"Oh," she said softly. It was one thing to have good intentions, and something very different to be recognized for them by someone who mattered. She looked back outside, from here across beauty to forever, and felt like her happiness might overflow it all.

He took her hand. "Speaking of significant social modifiers, did it ever matter to you that I'm Chiss?"

"No," she said. "It didn't even occur to me until other people stared at us together that the galaxy might think there's something…unseemly?...about it. But I like you very much, Chiss-ness and all. Your skin, in every shade of color all over you. You're utterly, unreasonably handsome, you know. I love the way your eyes glow. And, alien or not, I love the way you hold your head high no matter what."

He chuckled. "Darling, when I was younger I ducked my head any time it was necessary, which was any time I was around less friendly and less reasonable powers, which was any time I was anywhere near, for example, Sith. At least the ones who don't walk up to freelance jobs with the express purpose of foiling someone else's cruelty."

"There is something, to be honest. I was a little afraid when we first slept together that something might be different. I worried that something a properly cosmopolitan woman was supposed to know about would come up at the wrong moment."

He returned her sheepish smile with a gentle one. "If there were I could have talked you through it, if you wanted to learn."

She raised her free hand to stroke his hair and settle at his neck. "But there wasn't anything different about you except absolutely everything."

"Thank you, darling." Gently he encircled her waist and kissed her nose. "So to summarize my answer, I know you're Sith, but you own it instead of it owning you, and that's the part that makes you dear to me."

"And I love you as you are, no matter what anyone else thinks."

"And together we essentially overturn the natural order of things every day before breakfast. From a certain point of view we're questionable Imperials."

"If anyone has a problem with it they can take it up with me. I'm Sith, you know. And I have no problem using that power for what matters."

History note:

Spoiler

The two of them first met over Lord Drowl's brilliant "let's give everyone an agonizing death with the Quell poison" quest. Wynston was sure that a Sith's arrival dashed any chance of the LS solution. He was very pleased to find that he was mistaken.

Just for fun! There's nothing polished here. I was just consolidating drafts and gathering things together for a PDF text-plus-comment-record like I did for NDOW and (sans comments) RMC, and I found some passages that never fit anywhere.

First, I found six distinct drafts of the Wynston/Quinn conversation on Corellia (and I know I deleted/cannibalized more). Yeah, that conversation drove me up the wall. Some of the fragments in the reject pile just displayed too much anger on Quinn's part; as a character he had to stay on message more than he did in most of these drafts. I really do like trying to maintain Quinn as a consistent and rational actor. Consistent, rational, but terribly limited.

*

Quinn didn't shy away from Wynston's stare. "Agent Vulture," he said with that patented conversational disgust. His eyes spoke of desperation shaped into something fine and brilliant and deadly.

Wynston very briefly debated the level of courtesy to extend. "Captain Carcass. I have nothing to say to you."

"Noted. I have something to say to you."

~

His nostrils flared. "Has the Wrath told you she's with child?"

Hm. The man was prodding to determine or demonstrate who was closer to her. Well then. "Yes," said Wynston. "My deepest sympathies go to any child who can claim no better than you for a father."

Quinn looked him over. "There are those who would make even worse replacements. I am confident in assuming that you're grasping at 'replacement' as hard as you can."

"That's between me and her. There's no part of it I would sully by calling your attention to it." Not strictly true; if Wynston could be sure no one else was listening, he would take full advantage of any relationship he had or could invent to make the worm miserable.

Wynston kept his voice level. It took some effort. "Everything I've ever done I've done for the right cause. So far I've seen you serve nothing but your own advancement. And the whims of a master as contemptible as you are."

"Advancement? I'm not the one who insinuated himself into the only occupation that would take him only to embark on a desperate campaign of sleeping with enough authority figures to evade the consequences of his own disgrace of a career." Quinn tilted his head and smiled thinly. "But that wasn't what we're here to discuss."

~

"I was never the one blinding her."

"Oh, really. Tell me, agent, when did she learn your real name?" Quinn looked Wynston over and continued in a tight cold tone. "Did you mention it before the first time you got what you wanted out of her? How about the second? Did it happen to come up while she was bleeding for you in the operation that went wrong because of your faulty intelligence on Alderaan? You're scarcely a reliable source. Her chances are better with me."

"I think she would disagree," Wynston said dryly.

~

Wynston shook his head. "I've served the Empire the entirety of my adult life, and I can honestly report that you are everything I hate about her. At least there's some comfort in knowing you're here in shackles, and everything I love about her is out there, free."

(Wynston tends to anthropomorphize the Empire. I don't know how often it comes up in conversation.)
~

"He has no hold over me now. I have nothing left to lose. I do have one thing left to offer, and the Wrath is the only one I would offer it to."

~

"You really did come to care for your target, didn't you." Wynston said slowly. The depth of Quinn's conviction surprised him. "And then you pulled the trigger anyway. That makes you a failure coming and going, agent."

"Captain," snapped Quinn.

"'Captain' isn't the job that put you in here."

~

Quinn and Wynston: Infinite hatred in infinite combinations!

Other early-Lodestone passages heavily altered or rejected entirely for publication:

*

"Jaesa, I've never tended a wounded animal." This wasn't technically true, but delivering gundark-grade tranquilizers by long-range rifle and patching up the target as quickly as possible so as to get back to indoor civilization was not what people meant when they talked about saving wounded creatures. "But the principles still work. Slow approach." Unless it was him hunting her down to see her as soon as he could. "Keep talking, gently." Or alternately guilt-trip her and give her long physical periods of silence. "[something something hey bright put words here]." Come to think of it, he was pretty bad with tending the emotional wounded.

*

Her warmth was perfect as always, her curves no more than the occasional subtle softness between muscle and scar, present in just the right places, surprising every time. Wonderful. Not enough to justify self-immolation.

*

Falling in love is like enjoying Nautolan cuisine or being able to curl your tongue. Only some people can do it.

*

"My work was my first love. The one that's most likely going to kill me."

"We're not deathblenders," Jaesa said with a patient air that suggested this wasn't a new objection.

"Tell that to the Republic," said Vette.

*

Wynston first meets the crew on Corellia, an earlier draft:

They all looked at Wynston with varying degrees of surprise and suspicion. "Hello, everyone," he said evenly, taking his place facing them. "You're the best-equipped team out there to take down Darth Baras. That means I'm joining you for the time being."

"I'm sure you are," said Lieutenant Pierce. There was a cool challenge in his eyes.

"Convenient timing, I know. That could go either way. But I came unarmed and I'll submit to security as Lord Ruth dictates."

"We're glad to see you," Vette said firmly. "We could use a little more sanity around here."

"It's good you came," added Jaesa with a shy smile.

Broonmark stayed quiet. He looked ready for a fight.

Ruth walked in to stand beside Wynston. "If you came unarmed you'll need equipment. Pierce, do we have a blaster to spare?"

"Hm. One got freed up just a little while ago, actually."

Ruth paled. "Not that."

"I'll take it if there's nothing else available," said Wynston. "I'll be using it the way it should have been used."

Pierce disappeared in the direction of the storage compartments and came back moments later with a standard-issue Imperial pistol, the signs of a couple of custom modifications visible above the grip. That was Quinn's.

When Wynston reached out for it Pierce seized his wrist in a grip just hard enough to remind Wynston that the bigger man could crush him without even trying. Wynston held still. From a standing start, Pierce was right.

"You came to beat Baras unarmed, did you?" Pierce said quietly, running his hand down Wynston's sleeves one at a time, feeling for hidden weapons.

"I came to see Ruth unarmed. I'm staying to beat Baras with anything I can get my hands on."

Pierce looked to Ruth, and whatever she did, he relaxed a little and handed Wynston the blaster. "Watch yourself, mate. We're the only people on this planet who won't chew you up just for existing. And we're only that nice because of her."

"Uh, sometimes I'm that nice just for the heck of it," volunteered Vette.

"Much appreciated," Wynston told her.

*

And, finally, more hanging out in rainy gardens:

"I think I'll try the florists instead," he told her. "There are some nonnative species you might like. There's one bred to be sensitive to temperature in humanoid ranges. It'll change color to suit you when you hold it. Very slightly different for everyone." It was one of the few nonpoisonous plants he knew anything about.

"And what color would I get?"

He took the chance to touch her hands, run a quick caress across her forehead. "Hm. Assuming my temp scale isn't off, very light violet."

Her smile widened. "And you?"

"Oh, Chiss run warm, and I'm bad even by Chiss standards. The poor thing would saturate through red to black. They look like they've died after I touch them."

"Does it come back when somebody cooler comes along?"

His hands were back in hers, and she was tracing his with her fingertips, light and suddenly extremely pleasant. He took a second to gather his thoughts because her touch was lighting up a bright trail of nerves while she held his gaze with her own, and then he firmly reminded himself that he wasn't a schoolboy. "We'll have to find out."

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The statements and opinions expressed on these websites are solely those of their respective authors and do not necessarily reflect the views, nor are they endorsed by Bioware, LucasArts, and its licensors do not guarantee the accuracy of, and are in no way responsible for any content on these websites.